THE 

ROUT  OF  THE 
FROST  KING 


LO 
sD 

O 


BY  EUGENE 
NEUSTADT 


GIFT   ©F 


"Then  he  his  snowy 

steed  bestrode, 
And  with  his  followers 
southward  rode."' 


THE  ROUT 

OF  THE  FROST 

KING 

&r  OTHER  FAIRY  POEMS 

BY  EUGENE  NEUSTADT 

ILLUSTRATED  BY 

HAROLD  SICHEL 


PAUL  ELDER  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 
SAN  FRANCISCO 


Copyright,  1914 

PAUL  ELDER  AND  COMPANY 
SAN  FRANCISCO 


TO  MY  BELOVED  WIFE 

NEE 
SOFIA  NEWLAND 


302345 


THE  ROUT 
OF  THE  FROST  KING 

BEING  A 

VERITABLE  ACCOUNT  OF  HIS 

OVERTHROW  BY  THE 

ZEPHYRS 


Amid  the  polar  regions  stands 
A  palace  built  of  ice  and  snow, 
And  when  the  northern  light  expands 
And  falls  upon  its  domes,  they  glow 
Like  gems  reflecting  every  hue 
From  rosy-red  to  palest  blue, 
Till  every  dome  and  minaret 
Appears  with  countless  jewels  set. 

As  far  as  man  has  power  to  see, 
Around  the  palace  lies  a  plain 
Of  boundless  white  monotony, 
O'er  which  the  eye  would  search  in  vain 
For  aught  but  snowpeaks  here  and  there, 
Uprising  in  the  icy  air, 
And  standing  out  against  the  sky 
Like  crystals  that  in  splendour  vie. 


The  great  white  wolf  and  polar  hear 
On  sentry  stand  before  the  gate 
Of  that  mysterious  palace  where 
The  Frost  King  dwells  in  royal  state. 
His  army,  clad  in  snowy  white, 
Is  in  attendance  day  and  night, 
And  hig-cheeked  winds  their  trumpets 

blow, 
When  forth  the  King  intends  to  go. 

One  day  the  King,  while  taking  rest, 
And  dreaming  of  his  feud  of  old 
Against  the  Zephyrs  from  the  west, 
Was  startled  by  these  spirits  bold, 
Who,  taking  from  his  roof  a  peep 
And  seeing  that  he  was  asleep, 
Had  breathed  upon  him  till  he  felt 
The  icicles  around  him  melt. 


The  Frost  King  rose  in  wrath  and  pain 
Because  so  limp  and  wet  felt  he, 
And  when  the  Zephyrs  tried  again 
To  breathe  on  him,  he  made  them  flee, 
By  sending  forth  one  icy  breath 
That  gripped  them  like  the  hand  of 

Death, 

And  drove  them  from  his  realm  of  ice, 
To  warmer  climes  and  fairer  skies. 

As  such  affront  could  not  be  borne,- 
It  was  a  cause  for  war  indeed,- 
He  bade  Sir  Northwind  sound  his  horn 
And  call  his  icy  host  with  speed. 
The  sound  had  scarcely  died  away, 
When  forth  there  came  in  white  array 
The  army  of  the  Polar  King, 
And  round  the  palace  formed  a  ring. 


Ten  billion  Snowsprites  danced  about, 
Preparing  for  their  whirling  flight, 
Sir  Northwind  uttered  shout  on  shout 
From  sheer  exub'rance  and  delight. 
And  when  his  majesty  appear'd 
Before  the  gates,  the  sentries  cheer'd; 
Then  he  his  snowy  steed  bestrode 
And  with  his  followers  southward  rode. 

Sir  Hailstorm  with  artillery 
For  throwing  small  shot,  joined  the 

throng, 

And  crossing  o'er  the  Arctic  Sea, 
They  saw  Prince  Hoarfrost  bring  along, 
By  order  of  his  lord's  commands, 
A  myriad  of  light-mounted  bands 
Who  were  the  first  to  reach  the  coast 
To  which  the  Frost  King  led  his  host. 


One  thing  they  could  not  understand, 
Was  that  the  hills  and  plains  were  green, 
For  in  their  own  white  polar  land 
Such  curious  sight  was  never  seen. 
The  houses  were,  most  strange  to  say, 
Not  made  of  ice,  but  something  gray, 
And  feathery  things  of  dark  green  hue, 
Twoscore  feet  high  in  places  grew. 

And  from  the  roofs  dark  clouds  uprose - 

gbey  found  out  later  it  was  smoke )- 
at  went  into  Sir  Northwind's  nose 
And  made  him  sneeze  and  cough  and 

choke; 

The  Snowsprites  it  annoyed  a  lot, 
It  made  them  feel  so  limp  and  hot ; 
And  Hoarfrost  said  that  he  should  die 
If  on  those  roofs  he  had  to  lie. 


But  suddenly  King  Frost  drew  rein 
And,  pointing  to  the  earth  below, 
He  said:  "On  yonder  fertile  plain 
And  wheresoever  green  things  grow, 
There  live  the  Zephyrs  whose  warm 

breath 

Is  to  our  brethren  certain  death. 
So,  let  us  sweep  down  from  this  height, 
And  grip  them  ere  there's  time  for  flight.' 

Because  the  Zephyrs  often  roam 
Like  other  winds  in  distant  lands, 
It  happened  that  but  few  were  home, 
And  strayed  about  in  little  bands. 
But  when  they  heard  Sir  Northwind's 

roar, 
And  saw  the  Snowsprites  earthwards 

pour, 

They  knew  delay  meant  sure  defeat, 
And  safety  sought  in  fast  retreat. 


"And  when  he  reached 

the  shore  and  blew, 

The  Snowsprites  fled 

and  flowers  grew." 


Sir  Northwind,ho!"the  King  roar'd  loud, 
"I  see  those  craven  Zephyrs  fly! 
Now,  after  them,  for  I  have  vowed 
That  every  one  of  them  shall  die! 
And  while  you  cut  off  their  retreat, 
The  Snowsprites,  racing  up,  will  beat 
These  wretches  who  audaciously 
Have  dared  to  cross  our  Arctic  Sea." 

Alas,  the  Zephyrs  were  so  few 
That  soon  they  had  to  make  a  stand, 
But,  being  brought  to  bay,  they  threw 
Themselves  upon  the  hostile  band; 
And  as  they  met  with  grim  intent, 
Each  on  his  foe's  destruction  bent, 
A  host  of  Snowsprites  met  their  death 
Ere  silenced  was  the  Zephyrs'  breath. 


10 


"To  us  belongs  the  victory!" 
Exclaimed  the  Frost  King,  with  delight. 

"I'll  now  send  out  to  bush  and  tree 
My  Frostsprites,  who  will  kill  and  blight 
All  green  things  growing  on  the  earth, 
And  thus  produce  a  fearful  dearth." 
And  lo !  upon  the  King's  command, 
The  Frostsprites  occupied  the  land. 

Each  bush  and  tree  was  filled  with  dread 
On  being  by  the  Frost  King  gripped, 
Each  flower  hung  its  tender  head, 
And  all  were  soon  of  foliage  stripped. 
The  birds  were  silent  with  affright, 
And  beasts  of  prey  crept  out  of  sight, 
The  sheep  took  shelter  'neath  the  hill, 
The  fields  and  woods  lay  white  and  still. 


No  brooklets  now  could  rush  along, 
For  they  were  held  as  by  a  vise, 
And  buried  lay  their  merry  song 
Beneath  a  shroud  of  snow  and  ice. 
In  short,  it  was  the  Frost  King's  reign 
That  stretched  away  from  plain  to  plain ; 
For  weeks  and  weeks  he  southward  went 
On  vengeance  and  destruction  bent. 

One  day,  about  the  first  of  March, 
While  near  the  Adriatic  shore, 
And  romping  round  a  ruined  arch, 
Sir  Northwind  gave  a  mighty  roar— 
For,  looking  o'er  the  waves,  he  saw 
Ten  billion  seashells  landward  draw, 
While  Zephyrs  seated  in  them  blew 
Upon  their  sails  of  silv'ry  hue. 


i 


1 


The  first  shell  was  the  Zephyr  King's, 
His  fair  head  crowned  with  hudding 

flowers, 

Of  gauzy  web  were  made  his  wings, 
His  smilax  cloak  trailed  down  in 

showers; 

Soft  rain  dripped  from  his  rootlike  hair, 
His  perfumed  breath  spread  through 

the  air, 

And  when  he  reached  the  shore  and  blew, 
The  Snowsprites  fled  and  flowers  grew. 

No  sooner  did  the  Frost  King  hear 
The  Zephyrs'  army  was  in  sight, 
And  that  the  Snowsprites,  filled  with  fear, 
Were  much  disposed  to  take  to  flight, 
Than  up  he  rose  in  wildest  ire, 
And  bade  Sir  Hailstorm  at  it  fire 
The  biggest  stones  at  his  command, 
.  To  drive  the  Zephyrs  from  the  land. 


Despite  the  heavy  cannonade 
Which  Hailstorm  on  the  Zephyrs  threw, 
Their  quick  advance  could  not  be  stayed, 
And  when  resistance  feehler  grew 
More  Snowsprites  came  to  join  the  fray; 
But,  warmed  by  Zephyrs'  breath,  turned 

gray 

And  died  in  myriads  on  the  green 
On  which  their  forms  were  no  more  seen. 

Sir  Northwind  shrieked  till  he  was  hoarse, 
The  Frost  King  grimly  shook  his  head, 
The  Snowsprites  needs  must  yield  to 

force, 

Confusion  through  his  army  spread; 
With  wrath  his  face,  once  white,  turned 

gray* 

He  felt  he  dared  no  longer  stay. 
He  bade  his  army  turn  in  haste 
And  cross  the  plains  it  had  laid  waste. 


Away,  away,  he  northward  rode 
With  soot  bespeckled,  gaunt  and  grim, 
His  limp,  white  hair  around  him  flowed, 
His  wat'ry  eyes  seemed  weak  and  dim; 
The  crystals  from  his  long  cloak  dropped 
Whenever  he  a  moment  stopped 
To  gaze  upon  his  fleeing  host, 
Of  former  glories  but  a  ghost. 

'Twas  death  to  those  who  dared  to  lag, 
The  Zephyr  King  would  grant  no  grace, 
He  hoisted  on  the  plains  his  flag, 
And  then  a  wond'rous  change  took  place. 
A  billion  blossoms  raised  their  heads, 
The  brooklets  woke  within  their  beds, 
The  birds  struck  up  a  merry  glee, 
And  green  turned  every  plain  and  tree. 


Old  Frost  King  barely  reached  his  home, 
Beyond  the  distant  Arctic  Sea. 
'Twas  there  he  loved  to  live  and  roam 
Upon  his  plains  that  knew  no  tree. 
Within  his  icy  Palace  Hall, 
On  which  for  months  no  light  would  fall, 
He  laid  him  down  and  sadly  thought 
Of  short-lived  glory  dearly  bought. 

And  then  he  called  his  leaders  bold 
Who  formed  his  court  in  this  retreat, 
And  said:  "You  hardly  need  be  told 
I  don't  accept  this  sore  defeat; 
For  when  November  comes  again, 
Assemble  here  upon  this  plain. 
I'll  lead  you  to  the  southern  shore 
To  fight  the  Zephyr  King  once  more." 


THE  FAIRY-RING 

FOUNDED  ON 

AN  OLD  GERMAN  LEGEND  OF 
THE  BLACK  FOREST 


As  the  moonlight  fell 
On  a  dreaming  dove 
That  in  sylvan  dell 
Nestled  near  his  love, 
A  ring  of  fairies,  fleet  and  bright, 
Danced  softly,  tripping  in  the  light 
That  pierced  the  leafy  domes. 

Then  a  magic  spark 
Lit  each  leaf  and  flower, 
And  illumed  the  dark 
Like  a  diamond  shower, 
And  fireflies  swept  through  the  air 
Or,  gently  swaying,  twinkled  there, 
Like  tiny  brilliant  lamps. 


19 


Weasels,  badgers,  moles, 
Startled  by  the  sight, 
From  their  mossy  holes 
Peer  into  the  night, 
While  bats  and  brilliant  butterflies, 
And  moths,  with  gaudy  wings,  uprise 
To  see  the  fairies  trip. 

Rabbits,  hares  and  deer, 

Birds  and  beasts  of  prey, 

Timidly  draw  near 

To  the  sylvan  play, 
An  audience  such  as  ne'er  was  seen 
Forms  round  the  fairies  on  the  green, 
To  watch  their  lithesome  dance. 


__. 


'The  babe  then  joins  the 

whirling  ring, 

And  'round  and  'round 

the  fairies  swing." 


Hark!  what  mystic  sound 
Breaks  upon  the  ear? 
From  the  woods  around 
Elves  and  gnomes  appear, 
They  chant  a  song  now  sweet,  now  wild, 
And  in  their  midst  a  pale  dead  child 
They  bring  upon  a  bier. 

*Tis  their  Fairy  Queen 
Whom  they  fftte  to-night, 
And  the  woods  are  seen 
Quivering  with  delight. 

To  her  the  lifeless  babe  they  bring, 

And  placing  it  amid  the  ring, 
They  wait  her  magic  touch. 


22 


Lo!  the  Queen  just  bends 
O'er  the  wan  cold  face, 
And  with  loving  hands 
Loosens  Death's  embrace. 
The  babe  then  joins  the  whirling  ring, 
And  round  and  round  the  fairies  swing, 
In  circles  full  of  grace; 

Ever  on  they  fly, 
Faster  grows  their  pace, 
Flashing  past  the  eye 
In  their  elfin  race, 
Till  mist  and  babe  and  fairies  blend 
And  rise,  as  early  dawn  doth  send 
Its  gray  light  on  the  day. 


As  the  sunlight  fell 

On  two  billing  doves 

In  a  sylvan  dell 

Where  they  cooed  their  loves, 
No  sign  of  fairies  bright  and  fleet, 
Of  softly  tripping,  tiny  feet, 
Was  seen  in  all  the  wood. 


24 


THE  BLUEBELL 
AND  THE  RAINDROP 

GIVING  AN 

ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LATTER'S 

ADVENTURES  IN  THE 

CLOUDS 


W  ithin  a  fairy-dell  where  grew 
Soft  mosses  and  purple  heather, 
The  Misses  Bell,  all  dressed  in  blue, 
A  picnic  enjoyed  together — 

With  some  friends  who  partook  with 

unbounded  delight 
Of  the  nectar-like  dew  they  had  gath 
ered  that  night, 
And  they  nodded  their  heads  in  a 

manner  which  said, 
"Let  us  sip  it  before  its  aroma  has  fled.' 

Among  the  swains  who  came  to  call 
And  court  them  in  gallant  fashion, 
The  Bells  preferred  but  three,  who  all 
Laid  siege  to  their  hearts  with  passion. 


27 


For  as  soon  as  Beau  Bumble  was 

roused  from  his  rest 
By  the  first  peep  of  daylight,  he 

quitted  his  nest 
And  proceeded  to  wake  the  young 

Bells  from  their  sleep, 
With  a  serenade  sung  in  a  hass  rich 

and  deep. 

His  friend  and  rival,  Mr.  Bee, 

A  dapper  and  spruce  young  fellow, 

Was  sure  to  join  the  melody 

In  strains  not  so  deep  but  mellow. 

But  the  favorite  suitor  who  hovered 

about 
And  who  never  expressed  his  devotion 

right  out, 
Was  that  fine  Mr.  Butterfly,  gentle 

and  shy, 

Whose  attractions  the  Bells  took  no 
pains  to  deny. 


28 


Of  course,  old  Wasp  was  also  there, 
With  Bluebottle  so  officious 
That  every  guest  disliked  the  pair 
Whose  manners  were  rude  and  vicious. 
But  despite  these  small  drawbacks 

the  picnic  went  on 
Till  a  cloud  overspread  the  blue  sky 

and  began 
To  obscure  the  warm  sun,  which  so 

marred  the  fair  day 
That  the  guests  with  a  bow  to  the 
Bells  speed  away. 

Then,  suddenly  there  came  a  flash, 
Soon  followed  by  distant  thunder; 
A  furious  storm  began  to  lash 
The  Bells  who  were  filled  with  wonder. 


In  amazement  and  terror  each  Bell 

bent  her  form, 
To  avoid  the  cold  raindrops  hurled 

down  by  the  storm 
From  the  heavens  above,  that  oft 

mirrored  the  hue 
Of  their  smart  little  frocks  of  cerulean 

blue. 

And  while  they  stood  with  heads  bowed  down 
To  shelter  from  wind  and  weather, 
Each  drop  that  struck  a  true  blue  gown 
Was  shed  on  the  purple  heather; 

Till  Miss  Flora  (a  belle  much  renown 
ed  for  her  grace, 
Who  with  girlish  curiosity  eyed  every 

place), 
Was  alarmed  to  observe  a  small  drop 

of  cold  rain 

On  her  lap,  where  it  lay  like  a  creature 
in  pain. 


30 


"I  wish  I  knew,"  quoth  Flora  Bell, 
'Those  far-off,  mysterious  regions, 
From  which  these  lovely  raindrops  fell 
Which  glitter  round  me  in  legions." 
You  will  hardly  much  wonder  at 

Flora's  surprise 
When  she  saw  that  small  raindrop 

look  right  in  her  eyes, 
And  then  heard  him  pronounce  these 

strange  words  with  a  sigh: 
"I  will  tell  you  about  them,  if  here  I 
may  lie. 

"When  first  I  saw  the  sun's  fair  light, 

I  sailed  on  an  airy  ocean, 

Where  cloud-ships,  rigged  with  sails  all 

white, 
Were  floating  in  gentle  motion. 


On  my  cloud-ship  were  countless  small 
drops  just  like  me, 

And  we  travelled  above  the  wide 
world  and  could  see 

All  the  marvellous  sights  on  its  won 
derful  face, 

All  the  grandeur  of  Nature,  her  beauty 
and  grace. 

"We  saw  vast  plains  in  fertile  lands 
Where  golden  the  corn  was  growing, 
Traversed  by  streams  resembling  strands 
Of  jewels  in  sunlight  glowing. 

They  meandered  along  till  their  light 

seemed  to  melt 
In  the  shade  of  a  forest  that  formed 

a  green  belt 
At  the  base  of  huge  mountains,  whose 

purple  turned  gray 
Ere  it  faded  amid  the  blue  heavens 
away. 


32 


"The  swains  who  came 

to  call, 

Laid  siege  to  their  hearts 
with  passion." 


"Above  the  lonely  Polar  Sea 
We  floated  to  snows  that  blended 
All  things  in  white  monotony 
As  far  as  the  view  extended. 

And  beneath  us  we  witnessed  the 

silent  display 
Of  an  army  of  icebergs  in  sparkling 

array. 
They  appeared  to  keep  watch  on  the 

boundless  white  plain 
Where  the  snows  of  drear  winters  for 
ages  have  lain. 

"One  day  we  sailed  o'er  desert  lands 
Which  shone  like  a  lake  a-blazing, 
For  down  upon  their  blanching  sands 
A  merciless  sun  was  gazing. 


34 


Far  apart  on  this  waste  a  few  mounds 

could  be  seen, 
And  upon  them  grew  palms  on  their 

island  of  green, 
Where  the  cry  of  wild  birds  hovering 

high  here  and  there, 
Seemed  to  startle  the  silence  that 

reigned  in  the  air. 

"At  last  our  cloud-ship  came  to  grief 
On  nearing  a  rocky  giant, 
Whose  peaks  showed  up  in  dark  relief, 
And  soared  to  the  sky  defiant; 

And  just  then  we  were  caught  in  a 

current  so  strong 
That,  despite  all  resistance  it  bore 

us  along, 
And  soon  we  dashed  with  a  terrible 

force 

'Gainst  a  cloudship  rigged  black  that 
was  crossing  our  course. 


35 


"Our  sails  were  rent,  the  ship  broke  up, 
Confusion  increased  disaster — 
O'er  board  went  every  trembling  drop 
And  sinking,  went  faster  and  faster 

Till  the  ocean  of  air-waves  through 

which  we  all  sped 
Had  benumbed  our  bodies  and  left 

us  like  dead. 
But  what  happened  thereafter  I 

scarcely  can  tell. 

All  I  know  is -I  woke  on  your  lap, 
dear  Miss  Bell." 

With  bated  breath  Miss  Bell  had  heard 
The  tale  of  the  Drop's  disaster, 
By  which  her  gentle  heart  was  stirred 
To  feelings  she  scarce  could  master. 


36 


When  he  spoke  of  that  shipwreck 
far  up  in  the  air 

She  determined  to  nurse  and  tend 
him  with  care, 

But  the  Raindrop  replied:  "Dear 
Miss  Flora,  I  fear 

My  departure  from  earth  is  exceed 
ingly  near. 

"For  now  the  sky  is  hlue  again, 
I  feel  my  small  body  lifting 
To  yonder  sun  that  sends  the  rain 
On  thousands  of  cloudships  drifting. 
Dear  Miss  Bell,  sweetest  lady,  alas, 

I  must  start 
On  my  way  to  the  cloudship,  and  so 

we  must  part. 
But  remember,  whenever  you  gaze 

up  on  high, 

I  am  smiling  to  you  from  my  ship 
in  the  sky. 


37 


So,  when  the  sun  rose  up  and  up, 
And  shone  both  hotter  and  brighter, 
Miss  Flora  felt  the  tiny  Drop 
Was  growing  lighter  and  lighter. 

When  soon  after  poor  Flora  looked 

down  at  the  place 
Whence  for  one  glorious  hour  he 
^  had  gazed  in  her  face, 
She  was  startled  to  find  herself 

downcast  and  lone, 
For  along  with  the  Raindrop,  her 
life's  joy  was  gone. 

•        •         •         •         • 

Bright  sunshine  round  the  Bluebells  played 
Yet  great  was  their  sister's  sadness  ; 
She  wondered  where  the  Raindrop  strayed 
Whose  presence  had  brought  her  gladness. 


Mr.  Bumble  and  spruce  Mr.  Bee 
could  not  fail 

To  observe  when  they  called  that 
Miss  Flora  looked  pale 

And  had  nothing  to  say  to  their  ban 
ter  and  jest, 

'Twas  the  Raindrop  she  loved,  and 
cared  nought  for  the  rest. 


39 


HERE  ENDS  THE  ROUT  OF  THE  FROST 
KING  AND  OTHER  FAIRY  POEMS  BY 
EUGENE  NEUSTADT  •  THE  ILLUSTRA 
TIONS  BY  HAROLD  SICHEL  •  PUBLISHED 
BY  PAUL  ELDER  AND  COMPANY,  AND 
PRINTED  BY  THEIR  TOMOYE  PRESS, 
UNDER  THE  DIRECTION  OF  JOHN 
SWART,  IN  THE  CITY  OF  SAN  FRAN- 
CISCO,  SEPTEMBER,  NINETEEN  HUN- 
DRED  AND  FOURTEEN. 


A 


302345 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


